


Misread Clues

by PhrancesP



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:04:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhrancesP/pseuds/PhrancesP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is an excellent detective, but where Phryne is concerned, it is no surprise that he misreads the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I set this scene at the end of Season 2 (ignoring the Christmas episode). I don’t think that either Jack or Phryne can wait until the next murder investigation to see each other again. Thank you to Kerry Greenwood for creating Miss Fisher, and thank you to Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries for bringing Phryne and Jack to life.

Phryne Fisher sat idly by her fireplace, watching the flames dance and warming her stocking-clad feet on the grate. She held a cut-glass tumbler of fine whiskey, untouched.  The table next to her chaise held a checkerboard and a tray with a decanter and a second tumbler. Phryne reflected on the day. It had been boring, quite honestly, because she had no further role to play in the investigation that had brought down Sidney Fletcher and George Sanderson.  Jack had made that quite clear, she thought, on the telephone that morning.  He had politely asked after her health, and had thanked her for her assistance.  It almost seemed to her as if he had been speaking to her in front of an audience, and he had needed to be formal and official. She sipped her whiskey then, defiantly. Why wait?  He was not coming to see her tonight. 

A knock on the door broke her reverie, and she started to uncurl her legs, smiling broadly.  Mr. Butler appeared in the doorway.  “Mr. Lin is here, Miss Fisher.” 

Phryne froze in shock.  Lin?  Why now? Her heart was beating too fast, and she struggled to arrange her features.  Lin walked across the room with smooth confidence and took her hand to his lips.  “Silver Lady,” he said. “You are more beautiful than the moon tonight.”  Phryne smiled automatically.  “Lin, what a pleasant surprise! Will you join me for a drink?”  He did not move away from her, and he still held her hand in his. “I heard about the raid on the Pandarus, and I had to see for myself that you escaped without harm.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and pulled her gently towards him.  Phryne was still numb with disappointment, and she felt herself move closer. Lin placed his other hand on her waist. His eyes were intent and serious.

Phryne closed her eyes and swayed closer to Lin’s warmth. He folded her into an embrace and she leaned her head against his chest.  She just needed to be held, just for a minute.  But Lin needed more, and he pulled her closer, so close that Phryne had to tip her head back to look up into his eyes. She saw the firelight reflected in his smoldering gaze.  “Camelia is pregnant,” he said.  “Grandmother has forbidden me to enter her bedroom until the family heir is safe.” He brushed the hair from Phryne’s cheek and tucked it behind her ear.  He stroked down her neck and cradled her head in his palm.  Phryne wanted him to kiss her, and he did.

They stood in front of the fireplace, kissing deeply, for some time.  Phryne felt passive, sheltered, and beloved.  Lin supported her weight against his arm as he kissed her.  She still held her tumbler of whiskey in one hand, and her other hand rested lightly on his shoulder.  Lin pulled away from her with a quizzical look.  “Where is your magic tonight, Silver Lady? Where is your heart? It is not here with me.” The spell was broken. Phryne straightened and stepped away. She turned to the table and poured a whiskey for Lin.  “That is wonderful news about Camelia, Lin.  You will make an excellent father.”  Lin took the whiskey silently. Phryne returned to her seat and crossed her legs.  “And, thank you for your concern.  The raid was terrifying, but Jack and I were able to save many innocent girls from a life of slavery.”

Lin did not speak.  He drank his whiskey, set the tumbler on the mantle, and turned to bow to Phryne. The silence was broken by a knock on the door.  Phryne stood abruptly. When Jack walked in the firelit room he saw them standing together.  He saw the whiskey, the tumblers and the decanter, Phryne’s shoes kicked to the side of the chaise, her blouse loosened from her waist, and her lipstick marring Lin’s smooth smile.  He saw her, his Phryne, with another man.  “Miss Fisher, Mr. Lin,” he nodded, his observations galloping to the inevitable conclusion.

“I am sorry to intrude.”  Jack put his hat back on his head.  “Miss Fisher, I see that you suffered no ill effects from yesterday’s excitement, so I will wish you a good evening.  I will see myself out.”  And he did.


	2. Jack Leaves the Scene

Misread Clues

Chapter 2

Jack drove away from Phryne’s house quickly, so quickly that he did not at first realize that he was shaking all over. He pulled to the edge of the road that bordered the beach, turned off the engine, and set the brake. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles stood out white in the moonlight. With a sigh he released his grip and slumped back into the seat.  What had he expected, exactly?  He had hoped, he knew that.  He had hoped that Phryne would be there, in the front hall of her house, in her black embroidered robe and her bare feet, just as he had left her last night.  He had hoped that she would be waiting for him to return, to continue the conversation that Aunt Prudence had interrupted. He had hoped to kiss her, to show her that he was not “always” noble where she was concerned. He had wanted her, and he had finally been ready to show her what he wanted.

But, he had seen her with Lin, just now, and he had known that he was interrupting something.  His instincts were good that way.  Jack tipped his eyes up to the sky and searched the horizon. Suddenly the interior of the car felt stifling and he needed air. 

Out on the beach the wind was strong, but the air was fresh and cool.  It felt good against his skin, which was too warm and sweaty.  He took off his overcoat, and then his suit jacket.  He needed to feel the air across his back. Jack came across a lifeguard stand, a chair high above the sand, facing the ocean.  He climbed up and settled in.  He was grateful that he was alone; Collins would think that he had gone mad, if he could see him acting this way.

Jack was sure that Phryne cared for him. The evidence was there, and he reviewed it.  She sought him out and asked for his company.  She had called him to her on numerous occasions, happy, sad, and dangerous – to Queenscliff, to Janey’s gravesite, to the winery.  He knew that she enjoyed his visits to her after they had finished a case. Those visits felt very personal and intimate to him, but he also knew that she had many other friends. He had never felt that he had the right to ask her about the men in her life, although he had questioned her taste in men in the past. 

He considered her behavior.  She had given him a new hat, placing it on his head in a possessive, wifely manner that made him smile to think of it.  She had fed him, by hand at times, in a familiar and flirting way. She always seemed disappointed when he said good night to her at her door.  Jack let out a soft groan.  She had stood at his desk, between his knees, re-tying his tie, just as if they had made love right there and were dressing again.  He thought of how close he had been to wrapping his hands around her hips, pulling her against him, pressing his lips to the exposed skin below her collarbone.  Sanderson had interrupted then.  Interruptions.

He had been so sure of her lately that when he came to her door the previous night, too late in the evening for polite company, he had not doubted that she would see him.  Now he was questioning everything, again.  After all, why would she want him?

Rosie hadn’t wanted him.  She had made that clear by asking for a divorce, a step that was practically unheard of in their social circle.  He had done everything necessary to grant her wish, even embarrassing himself in front of the divorce court by admitting to false indiscretions in order to present her as the aggrieved party.  He wondered if society wags had created stories about the Honorable Phryne Fisher in connection with his divorce.  He smiled.  Phryne would not care about such stories, if they existed, except as they reflected poorly on him.  He imagined her outrage, hearing such tales, his fierce warrior princess! 

Jack sighed deeply and shifted in his perch. What next?  Should he try again?  He shuddered as he imagined Phryne letting him down gently, explaining that she had an arrangement with Lin that was more than satisfactory, that she only cared for him as a friend.   A wave of humiliation crossed over his body as he remembered the night that he had realized that Phryne had taken the oily Warwick Hamilton into her “boudoir” as a lover. And Lin, with the lipstick staining his mouth, had been standing in her parlor.  The image of the parlor flashed in front of Jack again, and he forced himself to review it, slowly and painfully.  Phryne, in stocking feet, had been next to the chaise. The table next to her held the familiar decanter and checkerboard.  Lin, fully dressed in an overcoat and suit, had stood next to the fireplace, holding a tumbler of whiskey.  Phryne had looked startled, and dismayed, to see him.  Her face. She had been unhappy. If she had arranged to be with Lin, why would she look unhappy?

Jack caught his breath.  Whiskey, and checkers. Perhaps Phryne had been waiting for him, after all?  Maybe she had been waiting for his return, to pick up where they had left off when Aunt Prudence had interrupted.  But, how did Lin fit into the picture?  Lin had been dressed for the outdoors, although his hat had been on the piano. He must have kissed Phryne, in order to have the lipstick stains, but, after all, they were former lovers. Jack winced at that, but he knew it was the truth.  He had to face the truth about Phryne.  He would have to see her, to speak to her, to know the truth about how she felt. Perhaps he had been wrong.

Jack knew that he was a good detective. As he sat and stared at the stars above the beach, with the wind washing through his hair and drying the sweat from his shirt, he breathed deeply.  Maybe he had been wrong.  He closed his eyes and the sight of Phryne’s face, clean of make-up and full of promise, as it had been last night, swam in front of his vision.  He could still feel his body moving towards her, finally ready to show her how he felt about her.  Maybe, just maybe, she had been waiting for him on the chaise by the fire, ready to share a drink together and to move closer to each other. The clues were there, the right clues, if he could only read them.  He would go to her tomorrow and look in her eyes again, carefully and cautiously. He would wait for a fresh sign from her in order to be sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Jack swung down from the lifeguard chair and landed solidly.  He felt clean and hopeful. As he started his car he grinned to himself. Tomorrow.


	3. Phryne Faces Facts

Misread Clues

Chapter 3

Phryne heard the door close behind Jack, but she did not see him leave.  Her eyes were closed and her lips were pressed together.  She thought that her heart might break, and she felt that she should stand very still in order to stop that from happening.  After all, she had sworn, years ago, that no man would hold that kind of power over her.  It was hard to breathe, though, so she kept her eyes closed and stood still.

She heard Lin put his whiskey tumbler down on the table.  “Goodbye, Silver Lady. I am glad that you are unharmed.” He left the room, and the front door closed behind him, too. It was safe to open her eyes. No Lin, no Jack. She was alone again, in front of her fireplace.  Her jaw was clenched, and she opened it gingerly to take a deep breath.  Then another.  She felt light-headed.

Jack!  He had come to her, after all of her hoping and yearning, and had found her with Lin. All of a sudden Phryne was furious. Her heart was hammering in her chest. It was not fair. Jack had turned tail and run as soon as he saw Lin.  She did not owe anyone an explanation for her behavior.  She never apologized for taking lovers or for discarding them. And yet, here she was, responsible somehow for the devastation on Jack’s face.  Jack had assumed that she would be there, waiting for him. Phryne was in no mood for logic. She had in fact been waiting for him, but that was irrelevant now.  Why should she feel that she owed Jack anything?  There was nothing between them, nothing spoken anyway.

She twisted and hurled her tumbler into the fireplace. The sound of the glass shattering broke the silence.  Mr. Butler appeared in the entrance to the parlor, but he did not enter the room.  He did not say a word.  Phryne looked at him defiantly for a minute, before brushing past him towards the staircase, and the refuge of her bedroom.

Phryne hurled herself onto her bed, burying her face in her pillows.  Tears of anger and frustration seeped out, soaking the pillowcase.  She had been there for Jack; waiting for him, waiting to tell him how she felt and to show him how much she wanted him.  He should have been brave enough to stay, to drive Lin away, and to take her in his arms.  That was all she had wanted, she reasoned.  A warm embrace. Comfort.  Nothing more.  Why should she feel that she had betrayed Jack?

The door opened quietly, and Dot entered. She carried towels in her arms. “I’ve just been warming these towels for your bath, Miss.  The water is ready. Can I help you undress?” Phryne stilled. She did not want Dot to see her so distraught and angry.  She could not bear to upset two of her most beloved friends in one evening.  “Thank you, Dot.  A bath would be just the thing, my dear.” 

In the warm water, surrounded by foaming bubbles and enveloped in lavender scent, Phryne considered the facts.  Jack had come to her two nights in a row.  He had been scared away at first by Aunt Prudence, and then by Lin, but she knew now that he could not stay away from her for long, certainly not until the next murder investigation. She did not owe Jack an apology, but maybe she did owe him a sign.  Perhaps she would bring him a picnic lunch … once alone with Jack she could feed him with her own fingers, as she had once before.  She could straighten his tie.  She could brush a crumb from his cheek … Phryne smiled in anticipation and delight. Tomorrow.


	4. Phryne's Plans Fall Through

Chapter 4

Phryne’s Plans Fall Through

Phryne rolled over, twisting her satin sheets, as Dot pulled aside the heavy curtains.  The sunshine poured into the room and Phryne smiled in delight. She sat in bed to drink her tea and watched Dot as she cleared away yesterday’s clothes.  “What will you need today, Miss?”  Phryne reflected.  “I am not sure yet, Dot, but I can manage myself this morning.” Dot nodded at the door. “Jane is not feeling well. Her stomach hurts, so I have given her some ginger tea and put her back in bed.”  Phryne thanked her and sank back against the pillows.

She planned her day as she ate a slice of toast. First, and foremost, she needed to see Jack.  She remembered her idea – a private picnic lunch in his office.  “Dot!” Her companion was in the hallway, and she turned her head around the door in surprise.  “Please ask Mr. Butler to prepare a luncheon for the Inspector and for Hugh.  We will take it to the station on our way to Madame Fleuri’s salon.”  Dot smiled and nodded. 

Phryne chose her clothing carefully. She selected navy blue Mary Janes and white stockings, her blue pleated skirt, and a sheer white draped blouse over a deep blue lacy camisole.  At the door she put on her navy hat with a white feather diamante clip, and her favorite white fur wrap.  She checked her lipstick in the mirror – she had chosen a lighter color today, a warm peach that contrasted nicely with her light blue-gray eyes, and sheer tinted make-up. Phryne laughed at her reflection - she was fully dressed, but she felt transparent.   Her eyes were opened wide and her pupils were dilated. Her skin was alive to the sensation of her silk shirt and her soft fur.  Her heart was beating with excitement.

Dot appeared with the lunch basket, and they set off in the motorcar for the City South station.  “Rats!”  Phryne bit her lip, and shouted over the sound of the engine.  “I meant to check on Jane before we left.”  Dot, gripping her hat with one hand, smiled reassuringly. “She will be spoiled rotten by Mr. Butler while we are out.”  Phryne nodded brightly, already imagining the look on Jack’s face as she entered his office, bearing treats.  “Some men will do anything for a hot meal,” he had once said to her. She was hoping to cajole a smile, or a blush, out of him – anything would be better than his face as he had caught sight of Lin in her parlor.

“What do you mean, he’s not here?” Phryne asked, a bit angrily. Constable Jones, manning the front desk for the first time, gripped the edge of the counter and stuck to the basics. “Detective Inspector Robinson is not here.  He and Constable Collins were called out on an investigation.  I will let him know that you....” Phryne smiled icily and swept out the door before he could finish, with Dot in her wake, waving apologetically. “Thank you for the food,” he said, weakly.

Madame Fleuri brought out Phryne’s new evening gown for its final fitting.  It was a strapless gown of pale gold chiffon in irregular layers that floated and slid across her body.  The bandeau fitted around Phryne’s small frame snugly, but the fabric fell from there in sheets of gold. She was naked under the gown, of course, because Madame Fleuri wanted to evaluate evey flowing line for perfection. Phryne stood in front of the mirror as the seamstress took out the pins at the hemline, leaving the basting thread in place as a mark for the final alteration.  Dot stood to one side, automatically folding Phryne’s skirt and blouse, and lacy underwear.  “Miss Fisher, Miss Fisher!”  The anxious voice of the salon’s receptionist broke through Phryne’s reverie. “You have an urgent telephone call, your butler…”

Phryne picked up her skirts and ran, barefooted, to the telephone.  “It’s Jane, Miss. She’s in a bad way. I’ve called Bert and Cec and we are taking her to the hospital now.  To Dr. MacMillan.  Jane wants you – she keeps calling your name.”  Phryne paled and gripped the receiver tightly.  “We are on the way.  Tell her I will be there. Tell her to be brave.” Phryne raced back into the dressing room.  “Dot! Now – it’s Jane. She’s on her way to the hospital.” Phryne grabbed her shoes, her purse, and her fur wrap.  Dot could not carry everything, and she fumbled with her coat and purse, and Phryne’s clothes. “Miss Wiliams, go – we will send Miss Fisher’s clothing along.”  Dot’s eyes welled up with gratitude, and she ran down the stairs to the car.


	5. Business as Usual

Chapter 5

Business as Usual

Jack and Hugh returned to the station as twilight began to fall.  They had been on a wild goose chase at the Windsor Hotel.  A chambermaid had found a dead body in one of the bedrooms. She had tried to wake the gentleman, but he was unresponsive, and the hotel manager had called the police. By the time that Jack and Hugh arrived the body was gone, and no one could explain it. After a painfully long series of questions, Jack discovered that the chambermaid had been too afraid to touch the body.  Her gentle “Sir?” had been enough to bring the “body” back to life, and he had snuck out of the hotel using the service stairs.  Hugh found the “body” in the pub on the corner, alive and well.

At the station Hugh spied a familiar basket. His stomach growled. Jack read Constable Jones’s note: “Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Fisher were here today.  They said that we should go ahead and eat the food.” Jack went to his office and slammed the door behind him.  He paused, and opened it again.  “Collins, go home and eat your dinner.  I will write out the report and you can type it in the morning.”

Jack pushed back from his desk and threw his pen down on the blotter.  What a waste of time. What a long day, for nothing. Well, at least no one had died. Better to be thankful for small favors. He put on his overcoat and hat, as he did every night, and turned out the light in his office. Where to?  Home?  A pub? He was hungry, and he was empty. His mind went straight to Phryne’s bright kitchen.  Would he be welcome there, after last night?  He gritted his teeth, remembering how his stomach had dropped at the sight of Mr. Lin, standing in Jack’s place by the fire, holding his tumbler of whiskey, kissing his woman.

Jack drove close to Phryne’s house, but he stayed in his car, still debating.  He caught himself drumming his fingers on the car window, just as he had two nights ago. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.  He doubted himself and his intelligence.  What if he walked in and Lin was there again? It would be unbearable. Jack looked up at the sound of an engine. Phryne’s car pulled up to the curb in front of her walkway, and she opened the passenger door. Jack peered at the driver – Bert, he thought.  That was strange. Bert pulled away from the curb quickly, and Phryne walked slowly towards her house. 

Jack was out of the car in an instant. He could see her slumped shoulders and her tentative steps.  She seemed very small from this distance.  He did not want to scare her, so he walked quietly along the sidewalk. From the gate he could see her at the door, under the lamplight.  She was fumbling in her bag for her key, he guessed.  He opened the gate and started towards the house.  “Miss Fisher,” he began, quietly.  She whirled and gasped, “Jack!”  Her eyes were huge in her face as he strode towards her. Without speaking he reached for the key in her hand, and turned to unlock her door. 

The door opened smoothly, but that was the last thing that went according to plan.  Jack felt the heavy bump of Phryne’s head on his shoulder, and he staggered forward with the impact.  She slid down the back of his body and slumped into puddle of gold chiffon and white fur wreathed around his ankles.  She had fainted. “Phryne!”  Jack reached under her arms and pulled her to her feet. He swung an arm under her legs and rolled her body into his chest, just as he had on that terrifying evening in Murdoch Foyle’s chamber of horrors. Her fur caught under his arm as he crossed the threshold, kicking the door behind him.  The house was silent.  There was no fire in the parlor.  The kitchen would be warmer.

 Once in the kitchen he looked for a place to put her – the table was clear, and without much thought he placed her there. His heart was hammering. Phryne’s skin was as white as the fur that he held.  She was wearing some sort of flimsy evening gown that left her arms and shoulders exposed, and her feet were bare.  He had to warm her. He tucked the fur around her upper body, and threw his overcoat over her legs.  Turning to the kitchen stove, he built up the coals inside it. Next step, brandy. Jack found the bottle and hurried back to the table.  Phryne was waking up.

He sat on the edge of the table and propped her up on his arm.  She was shaking now, and he held the brandy bottle to her lips.  “Shh.  Phryne, darling. Drink this.  It will warm you.”  She obeyed, although her teeth chattered against the bottle. After another sip she looked up at him. “It was Jane.  She was ill.”  Another sip of brandy, and she spoke with more force.  “She will survive.   In fact, Mac says that she will be right as rain in a week or so.” Jack was perplexed, but he waited for her to say more.  “It was her appendix. Mac was there, at the hospital already, which was lucky, really.  She did the surgery, and Jane is resting.”  One more sip, and the color began to return to Phryne’s cheeks.  Jack continued to hold her. It was easier for him to hear her speak, anyway, if he stayed close.  “Dot is with her, and Mr. B., of course.  I couldn’t leave Dot there alone.  But Mac sent me home.  She said I was no use to anybody at the hospital, dressed in next to nothing and with no shoes on. Bert brought me home.” Phryne took the brandy bottle from Jack and took a healthy swig of her own.

Jack’s eyebrows rose, and he stole another look at her dress. There really was very little to it, especially on top.  It had a low neckline, and he could see the shadowy area between her breasts.  Perhaps he had tugged her out of her dress a bit when he lifted her.  Well, he was not going to apologize for that.  All in the line of duty. Jack had another idea. “Have you eaten anything today, Miss Fisher? That brandy will go to your head.” Phryne shook her head ruefully. Jack helped her down from the table. She surprised him by wrapping his overcoat around her tiny frame and sitting down on the floor, near the stove, on top of her fur.  “I tried to eat, Jack,” she explained, in a small voice, “but you weren’t there when I came to see you.”  He looked down at her, sitting like a child on the floor, but looking up at him with a twinkling eye, her beautiful lips spread in a wide smile.  They both laughed.

 “I see. So, in addition to keeping all of Melbourne’s citizens safe in their homes, I am now also responsible for whether or not you eat, Miss Fisher?  ‘A policeman’s lot is not a happy one.’  Let’s see what the pantry holds.”  Jack began to open the cabinets.  He found eggs and a pan, butter, bread, and jam.  He took off his suit coat, his waistcoat, and his tie. He then opened his collar, and rolled up his sleevees.  To Phryne’s delight he tied on Mr. Butler’s apron.  With his eyes fixed on hers, he drank deeply from the brandy bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.   Phryne shivered, although she no longer felt cold.

“Would madame like a drink with her dinner this evening?”  Phryne smiled as he took her hand and pulled her up to stand near him.  “Something in a whiskey, perhaps?”  Phryne played along.  “Only if you have something really decadent to offer, Inspector.” He placed their plates of eggs and toast on the table and pulled out her chair.  She unwrapped his overcoat and placed it on top of her fur. The kitchen was warming up nicely, thanks to the stove.  Jack took off his apron. Without another word, they both started to eat. 

Phryne licked her finger after sweeping up the last crumbs of her toast, and she looked up to see Jack’s eyes on her mouth. She picked up her whiskey and looked at him over the rim of the glass.  He was relaxed, she realized, at home in her house.  She scooted her chair closer to him as he took a mirroring drink from his glass.  Phryne felt with the toes of one foot under the table until she found Jack’s ankle. She rested her foot casually on the inside of his leg, the arch of her foot curling around his muscled calf.

He cleared his throat.  “Where are your shoes, Miss Fisher?”  She pouted.  “I think they must be on the front stoop.  My feet are cold,” she explained.  Jack pushed his chair back from the table.  “In that case, I am going to build the fire in the parlor.” 


	6. Third Time's the Charm

Chapter 6

Third Time’s the Charm

Phryne, and the whiskey, joined Jack in the parlor just as the fire began to burn in earnest.  She slipped into the room quietly, and curled up on her favorite chaise. The view was quite pleasant, she thought, as she stared at Jack’s shirt stretched across his shoulders. “Jack,” she murmured. He stood, brushing off his hands, and looking down at her.  Phryne had changed into her black satin embroidered robe.  Jack could not see any sign of clothing under the robe.  He reached, almost blindly, for the mantelpiece, a safe and familiar spot. 

Phryne looked across the space at him. He is standing where Lin stood last night, she thought.  She suddenly knew, without a doubt, that she had to clear away that mistake, that barrier to their happiness.  She stood and walked close to Jack.  He looked down at the top of her head as she toyed with his shirt button.   “I know that you said that you would never ask me to change,” she began.  “Phryne…”  She persisted, gripping his shirt in her hand. “Jack, hear me out. Last night was not what you thought.” He turned his face away from her gaze, but he could not move.  “Lin came to see me, but I did not expect to see him.  He was worried.  I have not seen him since he married Camelia.”  Jack allowed himself to breathe. Phryne went on.  “He kissed me, and I kissed him back, but it was not the same.” Jack pulled Phryne’s hand away from his shirt, and turned away to place both of his hands on the mantel. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Miss Fisher. Your affairs are your own.”  He closed his eyes – the firelight seemed too bright, for a moment.

She was silent.  He did not know what to think, or what to do next.  He felt her move behind him, and he thought that she was leaving the parlor.  But then he felt her hands on his waist, sliding up his shirt to his ribcage.  He groaned, silently, but did not move.  “Jack, I have no affairs.”  He felt her press her body against his back.  “I have nothing to hide.”  Her hands came across his chest and clasped above his heart. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

He turned in her arms, which were bare, and wrapped his arms around her waist, which was bare.  He slid his hands down to her smooth hips and pulled her closer.  Jack spread his fingers across her hips and tightened them.  “Miss Fisher, I can understand why Dr. MacMillan sent you home from the hospital.  You are no use to anybody, dressed in next to nothing, and with no shoes on.” Phryne smiled. “Wrong again, Jack.” He followed her gaze, and looked down her body, past her breasts to her stomach, down the shadow just visible in the firelight, down her pearly white legs, to see her feet, neatly clad in a pair of navy blue Mary Janes.  He grinned.

For the third time, for the second time that evening, but for the first time that it really mattered, Jack swept Phryne into his arms and carried her away.

 The End, and a Beginning.


End file.
